Nevermore
by Emerald Colored Ink
Summary: This is how I think the last book should have gone. Some romance, then again, I don't want to spoil the book for you.
1. Author's Note

Okay, this will be my one and only authors note, please correct the errors I make in the plot. I read Angel over a year ago so the facts may be wishy-washy.

I will try to keep the style of writing that James Patterson used in his books with some short chapters and a fast moving plot.

I am going this to try to "fix" the book, you see, I was hugely disappointed with the last book. So this is my ending. I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

**1.** Angel

Pain. There is that awful pain in my head, behind my eyes crawling out…Max, where is Max? She always comes. I was her baby. Why not now?

Why the pain? What day is it? It could only be a few….Where am I? I was with Max, Iggy, and who else?

I can't feel my legs. Help. Oh, please help. Max, where are you. I am in pain Max. They are hurting me. Max. Max. MAX!


	3. Chapter 2

**2**. Max

Pain. I wake up suddenly, crashing my head onto the top bunk of Nudges bed. Ow, remind me not to do that again. I rub my hand over the soon to be bump on my forehead. Just one of many, just one of many.

Then it hits me, Angel.

Pain.

I remember.

She is dead.

I had another dream tonight. I saw her, blood trickling out over her pale hairline, looking like a wreath of blood. Mouth open in an O shape. Her light blue eyes looked startled and scared. Her wings were bent at an odd, disgusting angle. They looked like they have been folded all the way back. Her dress in shatters and completely covered in dust, dirt, and blood.

No. I can't save her this time…not even in my dreams.

I let myself fall back into the safety of my pillows. I close my eyes but sleep eludes me.

The images won't stop. They wash over me. Angel and Total, Angel making Bambi eyes at me, Angel in the school, Angel and her toy bear, Angel, just Angel. And I am why she is dead.

After days of searching, after weeks, we didn't find anything. Iggy, the optimist, said that she could have been turned straight to dust from the explosion. At least her death would have been quick. My poor Angel.

And Fang, he left. He didn't even spend a week. My baby was dead and he couldn't look. He wouldn't.

I let a lone tear roll down my cheek. It reaches the bed sheets and marks them a dark blue.

Then there were four, four out of six. Three were still alive, to my knowledge, I don't know where Fang is, he could be trapped in a volcano and I still wouldn't care.

I let down two.

I let her die.

What happened, what happened to the "Great Max"?


	4. Chapter 3

**3.** Max

I crawled out of my sweet dark room that I share with Nudge. There are three bunks on the bed, talk about cool! Only, we just use two.

I waddle down to the kitchen, eyes burning from the bright incandescent lights. For the record, I am not a morning person. If you know anyone who is, they could be an eraser. I wouldn't put it past them.

I slump over the couch which lives in the shady corner of the room, too many bright lights!

Now, you may be wondering, "Hey, I thought you mutant guys sleep in caves and stuff, what are you doing here?". Well kind reader, let ol' Max tell you.

My mom. My mom is the **best** mom in the world. After Angel di…. after we made our way back to the good United States, she opened her doors to us four crazy mutant kids. Do you know of anyone who would do that? Now I am not some crazy beetles over chicken kind of person, so of course I said yes. Besides, we need some recouping, not to mention some chocolate chip cookies.

As my eyes adjust to the bright light of day I can make out that I am not the first one up. Iggy, as usual, is working and fixing up something in the kitchen. Hmm, smells like bacon.

Remember what I said about morning people? I think Iggy is going to grow fangs any moment from now because that man could wake up at four in the morning with a smile plastered to his face and do the chicken dance. Backwards.

I make my way over to the little kitchenette area. I personally don't care for white walls because of obvious reasons, but in here, it seems nice, it's homey. In fact we just recently had the walls done, easy when you have wings. Although we also had to get new carpeting because of the mess we made. Gasman found out about paint guns, after all my attempts at shielding him. Let's just say we all took very long showers.

"Soooo, baacoon?" I ask as I lean in over Iggy's shoulder. Ahh the delicious aroma hit my nose, one punch that I don't really mind. Ode to the constant crackling of the delicious fat.

"Yep, but it's not done yet!" He slaps my hovering hand away from the pan. He looks at me disgruntled and points to the door.

I stick my tongue out and head back to the safety of the sofa. Ah, my two loves, sleep and food.

"Max, it is very un-lady like to stick your tongue out."

I grunt and head back to the couch.

We shouldn't have painted the kitchen white, how will I be able to sneak food now if Iggy can now see me. Life is so unfair.


	5. Chapter 4

**4**. Fang

Did you know that the smaller a scorpion is, the more poisonous it becomes. Who would have thought? I remember when Max pulled me over just to glare up at me and tell me. That must have been years ago. It's funny the kind stuff that comes back to you.

I roll over and feel a shower of sand pour down over my body, I guess some sand slipped into my shirt last night. Ug.

Right now my gang and me are somewhere in the Grand Canyon.

Maya says that we are in the northern part, but my flock senses are telling me we aren't.

I open my eyes to catch Maya's long blond hair sticking out of her sleeping bag; just like the time Max and I went camping with Jeb outside our house. Max was convinced that white coats were going to come so she spent the whole night buried in her sleeping bag. Like that would really protect her.

Little did we know that Jeb was who we should have been worried about.

Maya lets out a little snore, which pulls me out of my thoughts.

Maya. Maya is, well, Maya. I thought that it would be weird with Max 2 here, but it isn't. It is like, I don't know. It's like she is a different person. Although, at every moment I have to remind myself that she isn't Max.

Maybe it would have been better for me to have not taken her, but there is nothing I can do about it now except avoid eye contact.

I could never do that, her eyes are too beautiful.

I wonder how the flock is doing? I hope the Gasman is holding up. Loosing Ange… well, he is a small kid after all; the moving around must be getting hard for him, not to mention all the crazies that have been out to get us in the past. I think it has worn all of us down.

I hope Max is taking care of Iggy and Nudge. Nudge had grown so much since I left; when I saw her in Paris she had looked so mature. I hope that Max realizes she is not some child that can be bossed around anymore.

I hope that Dylan has kept his grubby little "Perfect for her" hands off of Max. Anyone but him, please Max, anyone but him.

Who am I kidding, no one but me.


	6. Chapter 5

**5.** Iggy

When I first started to see again, it was amazing. We were on this white sandy beach in Florida called "Bathtub Beach". Which I think is a horrible name for a beach. I just think it gives to wrong impression. Like maybe there was an old man once would wash off in there. Or that it is a nudist beach, or something.

Me and the Gasman were walking looking for the restrooms when I first noticed that the darkness in my eyes was in layers, one lighter than the others. As I tried to focus I saw this outline of a shovel and bucket to my right. Then BAM, I could see.

I just stopped in my place, pulling Gasman to a halt with me. He looked up at me and I just stared at him. Slowly a smile made its way to my face, I could feel the tightness in my cheeks as I grabbed Gasman's hand and took off looking for Nudge, Max, and Dylan.

The Gasman yanked his hand out of mine. I could feel the sweat dripping from my free hand. I turned around to face him, to tell him, and then darkness.

Suddenly I felt cold, like ice was being poured down my thought. I was blind. Again.

It turns out that I can see objects if there is a white background, it has something to do with the cones in my eyes or something.

When Max found out she insisted that everyone had to wear white. And when we moved into her mother's house she bought the paint, the brushes, the rollers, and, later the white tiles and carpeting.

It was not my fault that Gasman found out about paint guns. I guess I just let it slip. At least Max doesn't know it was me who told him. I still can see her face covered in white, her hair dripping paint onto the uncovered floor.

Sometimes, I can see Ella in her.

Ella was sent to boarding school ever since that whole "I want wings" phase she went through. She is safe there, away from me, away from wings.

I will not say that I don't miss her, because I do. A lot. More than anything.

Some nights, we send messages to each other through email.

It's funny how much you can't do without eye-sight. I wouldn't be able to see what she wrote. Or know what she looks like.

I wouldn't have seen Dylan's face when Max kicked him out, like a beaten puppy. I hope Max knows what she is doing. I hope she was right to force him out, after all, the whole "Chair on Fire" thing was really Gasman's fault. Dylan just wasn't watching him closely enough. Well, what's done is done. He seems strong enough to last on his own till Max cools down.

Sight is amazing.

I never want to leave this white house.

Ever.


End file.
